


Days Spent and Long Forgotten

by octaviaxanadu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acceptance, Distrust, F/M, Fantasy, Fear, Mistrust, Mystery, Original Fiction, Other, Slow-Burn Friendship, That's it, a lot of other people - Freeform, but for now, extremely slow burn relationship, lot's of weird, original beast - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-03-09 21:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18925042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octaviaxanadu/pseuds/octaviaxanadu
Summary: A girl appears out of nowhere in a small town in England. The whole town is alight with questions.Everything seemed to be getting better from the dreary state it was once in, but all that changes when the girl is seen entering the forest and the kicker is, she never went missing.She only hid from those that wished to find her.





	1. The Beginning of Something Tragic

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave reviews, this story can also be found on Wattpad and Fanfiction.net :)

There was a specific story that always floated around the community. It wasn’t world-wide like Jack Frost or Sandman, this story originated in this little town and no further.

The town was small and somewhere floating into the countryside, barely counting as a part of England. It was in this town that the rumors started. Rumors turned to stories and stories turned to fables. Every child experiences the same feeling when one particular fable crosses their parents’ lips. Just the same, every child feels the splinter of hesitation over whether this fable was truly just make-believe or if it held even a speckle of truth. The underlying seriousness in their parents voices slowly convinced them to follow those rules the fable put into mind and always, always, pass it on.

 

There once was a girl with the universe in her eyes, milky ways filtered in an out of her irises like flames danced in the wind with stars that could easily be mistaken for sparks of mischief. She never spoke, never uttered a word or anything with a semblance. It seemed the best she could do was create a quiet whistling sound that made the birds chirp and tweet, almost like they were talking. Her hair was like a black hole; dark and alluring, enough so that if you stared for too long you’d feel as though it was trying to bring you in, to hold you in its clutches. Bathing in layers and layers of shadows that didn't scream of danger, rather of comfort and reassurance. It didn’t help that there was so much of it, often the only thing you could see was wide eyes peeking out of the blackness with a look so entrancing that for the contact to be broken felt like a crime. Skin ghostly pale, whispering memories of snowy days and rainy nights under the covers and frosted breath weaving through the air like a last goodbye. 

No one knew her parents, or where she came from. You’d have an easier time explaining an aurora borealis to a blind person. 

It seemed from how quietly she slipped into the lives of everyone in town, it was almost as though she was always there, waiting, watching. 

If anyone paid any attention to the wind, one might start to think that it had feelings. Mood swings and a temper to be reckoned with, but always there. If the wind could twist itself into a being and walk through the streets as though they had, for many generations, walked those roads and skipped the cracks, caressing flowers surviving on only what nature had given it and resting on the old windowsill of a widow that had always had bad sight, which only seemed to get worse with age. Some people described the wind as a man, with big bulging muscles and a long flowing beard that twisted the strings of fate, curled the winds between his fingers, forged havoc through hurricanes and tornadoes creating lines through towns and villages like a child dragging their finger through the sandpit, drawing a design only they could understand. Drawings that linked together and created stories of beings who brought ice and frost wherever they went, fire that could never be put out lest they die, seas that could bury continents until they were nothing more than whispers that fall on deaf ears. 

Many also see the wind as a woman, beautiful as they can be with hair that floats instead of sways and a smile that carries your worries away for another night. The fresh moment of relief on a hot summer’s day. The curls and silent laughter as it messes up the hair you spent hours putting together and pulling invisible strings on leaves to make them dance like it was what they were made for. Of a woman that sees the pain and heartbreak you go through, that always goes unnoticed and underappreciated. Of a woman who watches with sad eyes as you grow red in the face with eyes swimming in pools of hatred over that one guy you liked who asked out some girl you never saw before, as you quietly sit in the shadows of your own room, heart squeezing and shuddering so hard you feel winded, breathless, as you wonder… why her and not me? The woman who sits beside you and dries your tears, fills your lungs with air so crisp and clean you feel it enter your bloodstream, swirl throughout your body and for a moment, just a moment, you feel weightless.

This was the presence the child became throughout her days in the town. The excitement everyone felt then breathed a time of radiance, the whole town seemed to be rejuvenated. All from the appearance of a girl no one could explain.

When the day came, that a bystander saw the girl enter the forest, that the town borders. And disappear. A panic overcame the people. The town could only be described as deserted that night, as everyone who didn’t have mouths to feed were in search parties, looking for the girl that had captured their hearts with a single look. The townspeople searched day and night for weeks, however, as the days flew by, so did their hope. Soon the only evidence of nights spent in the maze-like forest and hours of calling and screaming were the bags and droopy eyelids, the way no one talked as much as they could for days to allow their throats to heal. 

The town had dulled down once again into its dreary state from whence the girl had revived them from. Over time, the adults called themselves silly, for relying on a girl they didn’t know to bring them happiness and soon they all came to a mutual decision.

Any word of the girl would be silenced.

Instead, warnings of the forest circled through bedtime stories to warn their children, though should they question the story’s relevance, they’d be written off as old fables; fairy tales. 

Though the look in their eyes as they spoke of the one particular tale left an imprint on the receiving child's mind, as a story they would never forget. Many dreamed of times where it happened and would suggest to the parents that they go out and find the girl, be the ones that brought the light back into the town. All they’d get in reply would be a soft shush, that put their suggestions up into a shelf of dreams never to be acted upon. 

Since then, everyone who lived in the town believed that if you entered the forest uninvited, then you go missing. Just like the girl who became the light of their world. Newcomers would be informed through whispers that the remains of wind would carry into the sky, the power it once held merely a fragment of what it had once been.


	2. Heavy Downpour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave reviews :)

The forest sat still, the occasional bird whistle floating through the air. The rotting carcass of a stag lay next to the remains of a tree that had died from lack of sunlight. Blue eyes stared at the stag, demurely watching the bugs flitter and crawl over and around the remains of muscle stretched over bone. One could say that the hunched over girl with a mess of hair had nothing better to do, if the bored look on her face was any indication. She sat there, the shifting of sunlight weaving its way through the leaves of the trees above her was the only noticeable sign of time passing. 

The girl stood up, her gaze not leaving the mound of flesh. She stood there for a moment before suddenly whipping around and sprinting in the opposite direction. All the branches and bushes covering any discernible path served no purpose, for she wasn't following a visible path to the naked eye. Instead, the girl found it to be more sensible to use thick tree branches and fallen logs as her chosen path. One could guess that this was her favourite mode of transport by the way she swung between them, others would rather compare her to a human trying to play monkey. 

Eventually, the girl reached her chosen destination; a lovely large pond that spanned around ten metres in diameter. Deep down by the floor of the pond were fish bigger than a skull, the fish that swam closer to the top were more the size of koi. The fish, in fact, seemed to be the point of interest for the girl as she crouched like she had by the corpse - at the edge of the water. 

This time, she only crouched for a few minutes before languidly wading her way in, the fish hurriedly swimming away as soon as she entered. The girl waded in until she was about chin deep. Then she blew some bubbles.

 

A woman with square glasses and her years present on her skin hurried through the town. This particular woman, though attempting to blend in with a nice white frilly blouse and a black ankle length skirt, was clearly not blending in and stuck out rather like a sore thumb. She garnered looks everywhere she went but from the looks on her usually stoic face, none of the eyes of the towns-people that looked her way were those of who she was looking for. Above her, clouds began releasing fat droplets of rain. One of which, fell directly onto the bridge of the stern woman's nose, flicking smaller droplets onto her glasses and into her eyes. While walking, she begrudgingly took off her glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief before slipping them back on her nose. Only for another droplet to hit her cheek and cause a similar effect to the first. Instead of cleaning her glasses again, the woman resigned herself to heading inside a small motel for shelter, forced to push her search to the next day - or at least until the rain let up. 

Against her favour, the rain continued through the night and into the morning.

 

The remains of a night heavy with rain was present in the way that droplets continued to fall on any unsuspecting victim who hoped to find refuge under the trees. They serve no one, not even the mightiest of Gods. 

Synthia knew this, she supposed, ever since a branch broke one summer evening and caused some of the worst grazes she'd ever had. There were still a few visible lines on her legs and arms from that. Speaking of visible lines, Synthia stared at her fingers, studying them with an almost blank gaze. For moment she wondered to herself where she got them from... Ah, she remembered now. She had been playing with a knife she had found by the edge of the forest. At the time she was throwing it in the air and catching it again, as she found that sort of thing entertaining. Usually she only had rocks, this time she had something different. Though she quickly learned that catching it wrong would result in sore fingers. After some time she thought she had grown rather adept at throwing and catching the knife. She knew to keep away from the brown by the base of the blade, though she didn't remember why. 

She did her best not to dwell on it. 

 

A giant of man walked casually through the streets. He didn’t take any notice of the looks of bewilderment that were thrown his way as he passed by. It would seem that he was used to such things. Eventually he came upon a motel, forced to crouch and squeeze his way through the front door where an old faded ‘Welcome! We are open!’ sign sat. Popping through the doorway was reminiscent of an octopus escaping from a container, he tried to hide his quiet sigh of relief once inside. He shuffled his way to the front desk where a middle aged woman sat reading a rather thick book, her cheek squished against the palm of her hand. He stood for a moment, “Excuse me?” He said quietly, not wanting to disturb the young lady too much. 

Her name tag said Delores, he noted. She took a moment to drag her eyes away from her book, half-heartedly glancing his way before doing a very noticeable double take. “O-Oh, how may i help you?” He could tell that she was trying her best to ignore his size.

“I’m here for a Ms McGonagall. Is she here?” he requested, a kindly as he could. It wasn’t easy, it was stressful these days, they’d spent two and a half days searching but to no avail. 

“Oh, give me one second.” She looked down at another open book by her side, this one had the room records. From how little was written one could guess that this particular motel didn’t receive much business. “I’m afraid she’s not in right now, do you want me to give her anything.” she inquired.

“Now that you mention it, could you give her this the next time she comes in?” handing her a note made on yellowing paper, he prepared himself to leave and go back out to the baffled looks on the streets.

“Of course, may I have your name?” she had a pen poised and ready to write on a spare napkin. 

“Hagrid,” he smiled at her, “It was nice talking to you, Miss Delores.” he said before turning around and squeezing his way back out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)


	3. Not All That It Seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave reviews :)

She supposed that anyone who wasn't used to her would find it strange to see her crouched on a tree branch several feet above the ground and tweeting at a few birds in their nest. So when she was having a nice conversation full of chirrups and twitters she was surprised when she heard a greeting from below her. She was even more surprised to notice just how big the hairy man was.

Hagrid was a man who knew many things, whether it be about creatures or children. So he knew that if they couldn't find the child in the city the next best place to look was the forest. Children were curious things, after all. 

However, he wasn't quite as surprised as he probably should've been when he finally found the child up in a tree, talking to some birds.

“Hello there!” He called out, trying to seem as friendly as he could without sounding condescending. He also didn't want to startle her, as he doubted he would be able to have fast enough reflexes to catch her if she fell. His didn’t seem to startle her in the slightest but it definitely scared the birds away. For a moment there was no indication that the child had even heard him at all. Then slowly, very slowly, they turned their head and the image reminded him of the athene owl he has back home recovering from eating some bad food. 

“What do you want?” 

If Hagrid wasn’t looking directly at the child he would have thought that her voice was from behind him. It came close to giving him a chill down his back. “I’m come to give you a letter. It’s very important but you’ll need to come down from there.” Brandishing a copy of a letter that they had all been given just for this moment. 

“Don’t want it.” 

“What if I told you that this letter could change your life?” he said. Persuasion doesn’t always work but maybe it will just this once.

“Don’t care.”

Well, that just went out the door. How about, “If I show you some magic would’you read it?” A moment passes.

“You’re gonna need to impress me.” 

No surprises there. Thinking for a moment, Hagrid decided to lift up his small pink umbrella containing the broken fragments of what used to be his wand and conjured a nonverbal spell. Fire burst out of the end of the umbrella, the flame no more than the size of his fist. He let the fire live for a few seconds before diminishing it and looking up expectantly. A couple heartbeats passed by.

“Do something else.”

Obviously this was not enough for the girl. “You’re stubborn aren’t you.” She didn’t reply. Looking around; by his feet there was a wilting flower hinging between life and death. He pointed hi umbrella at it and cast another spell. The flower burst to live and grew to nearly three times its size, some smaller versions started sprouting out as well. 

Hoping that this was enough to convince her, he rejoiced quietly in his mind as she moved and jumped her way down from her perch on the tree branch. Once her feet were solidly on the ground he took a couple steps forward. She never lost her crouched position and looked only more ready to run the closer he got. Taking this in stride Hagrid held out the letter, his size equating for a long distance without needing to walk closer. Faster than he could blink, a stick thin dirt covered arm reached out and snatched the letter from his hands. His arm fell back and joined his other hand still holding his wand-umbrella. 

She ripped open the letter a bit more harshly than was probably necessary and stared at the parchment for a considerable amount of time before thrusting it back out toward him. Her arm held in the air for a second as Hagrid wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do. 

“Read it to me.”

Hagrid was confused. “Didn’t ya’ just read it?” 

She followed up quickly, “I can’t read.”

Hagrid was flabbergasted. This child was eleven years old and yet she didn’t know how to read? Her parents were doing a right lousy job of raising her then. Nonetheless he took the parchments from her hand and read the contents out to her. He was quietly grateful that she didn’t call him out for misreading a few words a couple times and having trouble with others and their pronunciation. Once he’d finished he gave the parchment back. It was quiet for another moment. It was glaringly obvious that this one wasn’t much of a talker. 

“I don’t have any money.”

Throughout the entire conversation that Hagrid had had with this child, everything they said sounded bored and monotone. But now, this time she sounded a lot softer.

“Tha’s alrigh’. The money’s already been sorted.” Hagrid smiled. Finally, they were getting somewhere with this mystery child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)


	4. A Bag Of Money Is All It Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Heya guys, things are starting to pick up from here and chapters may start getting longer which means more time between uploads. For now, I hope you enjoy and leave comments/reviews as constructive critism and your comments in general always make me happy :)**

After a long while of negotiating and reassuring, the girl was ready to head with him to the town’s square - where McGonagall would be meeting him at exactly three o’clock in the afternoon.  

 

Hagrid was happily walking along with the kid by his side chattering about what types of things are taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and all his experiences as the schools 'Groundskeeper’. Once they reached the edge of the forest, reconnected with the unkempt trail and shifted the mostly one-sided conversation to other topics, Hagrid noticed with no small amount of surprise that the child had seemingly transfigured into another child. Long, ankle length hair was now short enough to barely reach the tips of her ears, she grew another two inches or so and her eyes were a stony grey. Hagrid started wondering if this was why the child was so hard to find. A metamorphmagus? It still wouldn’t explain the tattered clothes and useless parents. Money was also an issue that she had brought up, maybe she was poor? 

The village was only a couple minutes away now. Hagrid decided that he wouldn’t bring it up. 

Hagrid surmised that the child knew how to get around just fine, this was brought to his attention as they were sitting at the outside tables of a quaint cafe near the outskirts of the village; even with the added height the difference in sizes between them was borderline comical. The child’s chair looked too big for her and her feet could barely brush the ground; Hagrid however, swamped his chair and if it weren’t for the sturdy material he was sure it would have snapped under his weight by then. Using some muggle money that McGonagall had given him, Hagrid had bought a small pie for the child -- it wasn’t because she looked too thin to be healthy, no -- because it was lunchtime and he doubted that she had eaten anything. 

Looking back through the three day trip throughout and around the village, looking at the child he began to wonder if he hadn’t chanced the forest whether they would have found her in time at all. Many children were expecting their letters and many didn’t know that they would be getting one - followed by a visit from one of the Hogwarts professors to clear up any confusion and to explain that, yes, it wasn’t a mistake and, yes, your child is a wizard/witch who will need schooling for his/her abilities. The child looked like she could both blend in anywhere as well as stick out like a sore thumb wherever she went. 

The pie was gone within a minute. Hagrid bought her a second one and resigned himself to waiting for McGonagall, the clock above the door said 2:55pm. McGonagall arrived at 3 o’clock exactly. 

The bed squeaked whenever she moved. Looking around, she supposed if she had stayed in a ‘motel room’ before she would be a lot less curious than she is. 

The stern lady with square glass on her nose had talked with her and the big man for many hours. Synthia thinks that they did some of their magic to make sure that no one else could hear what they were talking about because no one was looking at them funny, even when the big man -- ‘Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid’ -- had laughed loud enough to make her jump and the stern lady -- ‘Professor Minerva McGonagall, dear’ -- scowled hard enough that he apologised. They talked a lot about the school, Hogwarts, and her ‘living situation’. Synthia didn’t know lots of the big words that they used but neither could Hagrid so Synthia didn’t think badly about it. When they asked about where she slept Synthia had been comfortable enough to tell them about her home in the middle of the forest; it wasn’t as pretty as they houses in the village and it was cold most of the time but it was home. 

They took her to the motel and gave her a room to sleep in, saying that they’d be visiting in the morning to talk about getting her ‘school supplies’ and to ask for any food that she wanted. Then, they left her to her own devices.

The setting was so unfamiliar that it was safe to say she didn’t sleep that night.

When Hagrid had knocked on the door to her motel room in the morning, it was the first time that Synthia had moved since she sat down on the bed several hours ago. Hagrid’s big bearded face poked through the door and he smiled at her, a wide toothy grin. 

“Good mornin’!” He greeted. “Dumbledore has said that we’re goin’ to use the school’s funds until you’re able to pay ‘em back once you’re older. Fer now, ‘e’s given us some money fer yer school supplies.” Holding up a little pouch that jingled with the movement. Synthia only blinked. 

Hagrid led her down to the cafe that they were sitting outside of the day before. One more pie and a slice of chocolate cake later -- Hagrid winked and Synthia still didn’t know what it meant -- they were on their way to a place that Hagrid called ‘Diagon Alley’. Turning into an alleyway, Hagrid held his hand out to Synthia. 

“Come on now, I don’ bite.” He smiled at her encouragingly. 

 

Synthia contemplated for a second before taking his hand. As soon as her hand was firmly clasped around the few fingers she could hold just from the sheer size of his palms, felt an uncomfortable yank just behind her nose and suddenly they weren’t in an alleyway anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, I'll be catching this story up within the next few days and the upload schedule will slow down:)


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